


Great (Despite) Expectations

by pamdizzle



Series: Dreams of Lace and Satin [11]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Established Relationship, Healthy Relationships, Intimacy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Platonic Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, is that a knife in your cane or are you just happy to see me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 17:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamdizzle/pseuds/pamdizzle
Summary: Oswald receives an unexpected visitor which leads to a long overdo conversation.Or, the one in which there is a frank discussion, a ring and a specified date.





	Great (Despite) Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE read the author’s note at the end if you finish this story and would like to a bit more insight behind how things play out.
> 
> Also, this happens to answer a prompt from Zara2148 who wanted Oswald and Jim having conversations about the future. This covers the first half of that prompt. I will conquer the second half in time! <3

“One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is...”

Oswald startles from where he’s bent over his desk, growing frustrated because none of the items in this catalogue are doing anything for him, to see Ed stood in the doorway of his office. He hastily closes the magazine, obscures its title and cover by folding his arms overtop it.  

He clears his throat. “If you’re here to bore me with riddles, Ed, I’m going to have to insist you make an appointment.”

Ed grins, snorting as he invites himself in and takes the chair opposite Oswald at the desk. “It’s Sophocles!”

Oswald squints. “Socks please?” he asks facetiously.

Ed huffs. “You know who Sophocles is, Oswald. You used to read—”

“Yes, yes,” Oswald concedes. “‘That word is love,’ I know. What do you want, Edward? And who let you in?”

Ed retrieves a taser from the inside of his green suit jacket. “Staff is light this time of day. It wasn’t exactly difficult to catch them off guard and give ‘em a little zip-zap.”

Oswald grits his teeth, careful not to so much as look in the direction of his cane which leans innocuously against the drawers of his desk just to his right. Ed hasn’t threatened him yet, but he itches to have Jim’s cleverly concealed weaponry in hand. He’s considering his options when Ed lets out a heavy sigh and slouches back into his chair.

“I come in peace, Oswald,” he says with no small amount of pique. “If I wanted to threaten you, I’d just kidnap your fiancé—”

The words are scarcely out of his mouth before Oswald snatches up his cane, freeing the dagger from the handle, as he lunges across the desk to grab a fistful of Ed’s lapels. He shoves the thin, narrow blade right up against the jugular as he seethes.

“I said if! If, Oswald!” Ed shouts, body tense as he tries to lean as far away from the pointy end of Oswald’s knife as possible.

Oswald exhales harshly, eyes shrewd as he gauges Ed’s sincerity, before he pushes the man back into his chair. “My apologies,” he says, tone rather the opposite of sorry, as he straightens himself out, smoothing the fabric of his suit before resuming his own seat, “I must have misheard you.”

Ed is rubbing a hand over the sensitive tissue of his throat, eyeing Oswald with a quirked brow. He narrows his eyes, gaze dropping to the thin-bladed dagger where it now rests in Oswald’s hand over the magazine. Oswald watches as those eyes then track left.

“Did you just pull a dagger out of your cane?” he asks, nonplussed.

Oswald grins. “Maybe.”

Ed smiles, teeth showing as his eyes return to Oswald. “Neat.”

“Not that this doesn’t serve as a valuable, teachable moment for my daytime staff, but there are other ways you could have secured an appointment, Edward.” Oswald gestures to the rotary phone at the left corner of his desk.

“Yeah, tried that.” Ed frowns. “You’re avoiding me. Which is odd because I distinctly recall you claiming we were friends.”

“I was being polite.” Oswald scoffs. “We’re far more like acquaintances these days, don’t you agree?”

Ed bristles. “I helped you escape that skeletal freakazoid!”

“You looked at me like _I_ was the freak!” Oswald angrily accuses, regretting the outburst the second it’s over. For revealing any new vulnerabilities to this man who has proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted. Edward is staring at him with wide, bewildered eyes and Oswald can’t stand to look at him. He straightens his posture and tilts his chin up slightly as he turns his head to gaze at the far wall instead. “As if you have any room to judge,” he scorns.

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Ed claims, voice affecting a genuine air of befuddlement. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t see your face,” Oswald argues. “It was the same as when I told you I loved you.”

“That was different,” Ed says irritably. “Making you feel crappy was part of my revenge for you killing Isabella!”

“That is not the point!” Oswald shouts, rolling his eyes. “The point is, I know what repulsion looks like on your face, and you were looking right at me. It disgusted you—admit it!”

Ed stands, slamming his palms onto the desk. “I was not disgusted by your panties, Oswald!”

Oswald stands as well, wielding his knife threateningly. “Yes, you were!”

“Was not!”

“Were!”

“No.” Ed grabs the hand Oswald has wrapped around the blade. “I.” He yanks Oswald forward by the collar. “Wasn’t.”

Oswald has about half a second to read the intent in Ed’s eyes, and suck in a shocked breath before Ed’s lips are on his. The kiss is delivered with too much force, far less gentle than Oswald knows Ed is capable of, and wholly awkward. Like being kissed by a maple tree that is desperate to prove itself an evergreen.

For a moment, his mind is completely blank except for a high-pitched ringing. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move. Can’t conceive of what is happening, except that it’s all wrong. He is accustomed to Jim’s questing kisses, often times ravaging Oswald’s lips with animalistic need, but never so inelegantly as this. He snaps back to himself within seconds, placing a hand against Edward’s chest and pushing with enough force to send the man careening back into his seat.

“What—” Oswald shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He stares at Ed with wide-eyed consternation as he declares. “I am a happily soon-to-be-married man, Edward!”

“I know,” Ed replies, groaning miserably. “I didn’t mean to do that. I just…” He rubs an agitated hand across his forehead, then gestures to his head manically.

Oswald sits down once again with an angry huff; leave it to Ed to have the worst possible timing, only about three years too late to catch this particular train. If Oswald felt awkward around Ed before, this moment bestows new meaning upon the word. There’s only one thing for it, really.

He pulls open the bottom drawer of his desk and snatches out the [single malt](http://www.stgeorgespirits.com/spirits/st-george-single-malt-whiskey/), ignoring the set of glasses which typically accompany the bottle, pops the cork and drinks straight from the neck. When he’s got a good burn in his throat, he slams it down onto the desk and, after a moment of chagrined consideration, slides it toward Ed.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” He demands, as Ed greedily accepts the liquor, taking a prolonged swig.

“I don’t know,” Ed confesses, passing it back.

“Are you trying to interfere with my relationship?” Oswald accuses. “Because, news flash, we are way past that and, anyway, what happened to ‘you come at Lee, you come at me?’” Oswald sucks in a sudden breath, then leans forward to whisper, “Did you kill her?”

 “What? No!” Edward denies vehemently, then sighs. “I don’t want to kill Lee…but I kind of feel like I need to?”

Oswald rubs the bridge of his nose, thoroughly exasperated. “Your brain is a bag of cats.”

Ed frowns, affronted. “Hey!”

“No offense, of course,” Oswald replies, before taking another pull of whiskey. “You do realize, you can’t just go around kissing people. It’s very rude.” To say the least.

 He’d happily enumerate every single offensive implication, but Oswald is too busy considering the fact that Edward’s kiss, something he’d once spent hours imagining, was so very lackluster. Then he ponders, with a grin twitching at the corners of his lips, that he is either incredibly biased or Jim truly has ruined him for anyone else.

“I’m…sorry,” Ed finally says, regaining Oswald’s attention. “You said if I wanted to rekindle our friendship, all I had to do is call but you didn’t pick up the phone.”

“I was avoiding you,” Oswald admits with a shrug.

“I knew it!”

“Whatever.” Oswald sighs. “You just kissed me, Ed. That’s not something friends do.”

“I got carried away.”  Edward hedges, then straightens as he adds, “My feelings for you have always been a little…confusing.”

Oswald needs something to fiddle with, so he grabs his cane and starts replacing the dagger. Also, he just wants to hold it, because Jim is not going to take this well. Perhaps it would be best not to mention it at all, but Jim values honesty in his personal life above all else, and a lie by omission is still a lie. Besides, Oswald could use his counsel. Jim has more experience with this kind of thing, after all.

Oswald squints. Then again, most of Jim’s exes tend to leave feeling homicidal, so…

“Maybe not,” he mumbles to himself, ruefully.

“What?” Ed asks, confused.

Oswald sighs. “Nothing. Thinking out loud. Look,” Oswald says, leaning forward onto his forearms, “If you came here looking for advice, I am the least qualified person on this earth to help you come to terms with…whatever the hell this is. You must know that.”

“I disagree.” Ed gestures at the issue of _Brides_ Oswald has since forgotten about. “You’re engaged to the city’s golden-boy detective! _You!_ ”

“Yes, I am well aware that my fiancé is too good for me, thank you for the reminder,” Oswald caustically replies.

“Don’t be so obtuse,” Ed admonishes. “You have more blood on your hands than I can dare hope to follow, but how many times have you thought about killing the person you love?”

Oswald shakes his head bemusedly. “What—”

“Let me guess,” Ed interrupts. He holds up his hand, curling his fingers toward his thumb in the shape of a circle. “Amiright?”

Oswald sighs, frowning as he taps his fingers against the handle of his cane. “I don’t think it’s the same, Ed.”

“Why not?” He asks, bordering on petulant. “I could get married, Oswald. I could be happy!”

“So, get married, then,” Oswald responds indifferently.

“It’s not that simple— _you_ _know_ it isn’t that simple!” Edward huffs. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Oswald presses his lips together, before he looks Ed in the eye, challengingly, and says, “Maybe I want to hear you say it.”

Ed’s jaw tightens, his entire body tensing for a moment before he deflates completely. He appears hollowed out, sounds so horribly defeated as he admits, “You were right.”

“About?”

“I would have killed her eventually.” Ed swallows. His hands twitch, voice rasping, as he confesses, “The same way I fantasize about killing Lee.”

The confession is surprising—not the bit about killing Lee. Oswald wants to kill Lee too, for a host of reasons, but Ed fessing up about Isabella’s fate? That _is_ a shocker.

“Fine. You want my advice?” Oswald meets Edward’s desolate stare as the man nods his affirmation. “They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. Congratulations on step one. Unless being little more than a common serial killer with predictable compulsions isn’t problematic for you.”

“I am not common,” Edward asserts. “What else?”

“Adopt a plant?” Oswald suggests.

Ed’s face goes from attentive to frosty in less than a second. “Is this a joke to you?”

“It’s what they tell alcoholics and drug addicts to do! Court mandated rehab is not something to wax nostalgic over, by the way, I don’t care what Zsasz says!” Oswald defends, emphatically. He adds, “Your addiction might be murder, but it’s still a form of addiction, probably.”

“You want me to approach serial killing with a twelve-step program?” Ed replies, deadpan.

“It’s better than trying to throw yourself at me—or men in general—in hopes that you can what, gay-it away?”

“That is not what I was doing!” Ed insists. “I told you, my feelings concerning you are complicated. Though…kissing you has made a few things clearer.”

“Tell me about it,” Oswald mutters.

They share a mutual grimace, then Edward says, gesturing at the magazine, “Are you…looking at dresses?”

“Contrary to popular belief, one interest does not portend another.” Oswald rolls his eyes, but he can feel heat rising to his ears as he begrudgingly explains, “I was looking at wedding bands, if you must know.”

“Right,” Ed says, narrowing his eyes, “but, were you?”

“It’s an issue of _Brides_ —kind of hard to miss the countless tulle monstrosities,” Oswald snaps defensively.

“Riddle me this: Why do watermelons have fancy weddings?” Ed asks, completely unaffected by Oswald’s temper.

“I should have stabbed you.”

“Eeeeet!” Ed’s obnoxious buzzer impersonation makes Oswald flinch. “Because they cantaloupe!”

“I’m not planning a ceremony, Ed,” Oswald emphatically denies. “I’m simply…”

“Thinking about planning a wedding?” He divines. As always. How did Oswald ever find this quality endearing?

“Don’t you have a relationship of your own to worry about?” Oswald imperiously reminds.

“Touché.” Ed allows, then asks, “You want me to explain why I need to kill her?”

Oswald rolls his eyes. “No, actually. I just assume it’s convoluted and wholly avoidable, but don’t let that stop you.”

Ed grins, then acquiesces probably just to be spiteful. “Do you remember when I told you that a man with nothing he loves is a free man?”

Oswald sucks in a breath, nods patiently.

“I fell in love with Lee, Oswald, and lo, I’m no longer free,” he predictably explains.

“Ed…if you aren’t free, it’s because you choose not to be,” Oswald argues, and he cannot believe he is about to defend Lee, but Oswald is honestly sick of this recurring misconception.

Now that Edward seems a bit less manic than he was at the start of this impromptu visit, Oswald thinks that perhaps the man is more confused than he’d like to admit. After all, trying on men is a bit extreme—it isn’t what typical heterosexuals tend to do when facing a life crisis, at any rate. At least, not that he’s ever observed. Frankly, Oswald isn’t sure if he can be a reliable account of what normal heterosexual men do at all.

 His experience tends to revolve around the most desperately pathetic. Most men he’s observed in the throes of a mid-life crisis typically result in loans for cars they can’t afford or incredibly high-priced hookers. Oswald knows because he held Fish’s umbrella while she extracted her pound of flesh once they didn’t pay up.

Ed isn’t pathetic, however. He’s at least self-aware enough to realize he is having a crisis. Considering the man’s track record with women, maybe the idea has merit. Or, maybe Ed will just keep on killing his lovers, regardless of gender. Oswald isn’t sure what Ed experienced when he murdered Miss Kringle, they didn’t actually talk about it. Only that it gave him a sense of freedom, Oswald assumes the kind Ed is currently referencing.

For himself, Oswald views killing as a necessary means to an end. Typically, except in the case of vengeance, the killing itself isn’t his catharsis. In truth, Oswald derives satisfaction from breaking the spirit of his truest enemies, will play the long game just to achieve it, so that by the time he does allow it to come full circle, death is probably a mercy. In most cases, however, he is more than happy to let others get their hands dirty on his behalf so long as it brings about the desired outcome.

Ed’s motivation, where his lovers are concerned are almost definitely a personal release of some kind. He doubts the man himself even understands the drive behind it. Oswald, conversely, knows his own mind well. He understands himself enough to recognize that his ‘darker urges,’ as his father called them, are all about power. So much of his life has been spent feeling powerless to his circumstances, after all.

His mother believed that poverty, pain, suffering—all human conditions, really—were all part of God’s plan and it was the lot of His children to accept their burdens. While Oswald has found a sort of wisdom to his mother’s thoughts on many things, it was never so in this. He believes that success and failure are up to the individual.

Which is why Oswald values positions of power so highly. And indeed, this is a facet of himself which is less easy to bar from his personal life. Of course, being aware of his own demons helps to mitigate any interloping they might attempt between himself and Jim. Except where Jim expressly demands it. It really is remarkable how compatible they are, actually, though Oswald doubts it would have been true in the early days.

Oswald didn’t begin to gain awareness until after his father explained their family history. Knowledge is power, after all. As for Jim, well, he was much too rigid in his approach to justice in the early days to see Oswald clearly. They would have been a powder keg—hell, they _were_ a powder keg—back then.

No, Oswald prefers these aged results. The quality of their relationship now dulls the pain of their past to near imperceptible. Moreover, the love Oswald holds for the man throws his feelings about everything else into stark clarity. Makes it easier for Oswald to temper himself.

He is far more discerning now, in all things, and more calculated than ever. Oswald finds that he prefers taking a more precise approach to the accrual of influence rather than with the kind of brute force he employed in the past. He will no longer take unnecessary risks or make hasty plays for power which might jeopardize he and Jim’s stability or happiness. Thus far, he has been rewarded with greater, long-term gains, both monetarily and influentially.

Jim, in a sense, has become his lodestone—the motivational marker on which his own compass is set due north. Where Edward seems to resent the influence of his lovers upon his own desires, Oswald embraces the change Jim has wrought. He regrets nothing. Which is why Oswald maintains that he is the least qualified person to help Ed overcome his own darker urges.

In fact, it would be much easier to let Ed walk out of his office and continue subscribing to his old fallacies. But Oswald likes to think of himself as a man of expanding wisdom. Ed could be a useful ally, or a thorn in his side. If Ed remains happy with Lee, he will be a thorn regardless, but if he simply leaves her…

Well, Oswald could employ him. It would be far more profitable than playing the Little John to Lee’s Robin Hood, after all. Oswald could certainly use his intelligence, though he’d have to earn that trust back first.

The alternative is to turn Edward away, let him run off and stab Lee to death as he so clearly wants to. Of course, Ed and Jim will ultimately blame him, and they’d be right to. Besides, Lee can’t be a useful black-market doctor if she’s dead. Like hell is Oswald going to leave that work up to Strange.

“I don’t follow…” Ed is saying, demanding Oswald’s full attention once more.

“You told me that love was my most crippling weakness,” Oswald explains.

“Love enslaves you to the expectations of others,” Edward insists. “It forces you to make compromises you otherwise would not. There’s no way being in love with James Gordon hasn’t impacted the way you handle business, Oswald.”

“Of course, it has, silly,” Oswald acknowledges happily. “The question is—does his influence make me better or worse? Am I more or less successful than I would have been without it?”

“How can you know unless you rid yourself of him?” Ed goads.

“Now who’s being obtuse?” Oswald huffs, spreads his hands entreatingly across his desk. “‘It is my model of reality that determines my happiness or disappointment,’” Oswald quotes one of Jim’s favorite authors1. “I perceive my situation as satisfactory, therefore I have no desire to explore the alternative.”

Edward frowns. “But what if that changed? What if it felt like you were making an inequitable number of compromises to ensure Jim’s happiness, at the expense of your own? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t want to take some of your own back. Punish him for making you look like a fool.”

“Punish him?” Oswald sighs, tiredly. Once upon a time that might have been something he would conceivably reason. Now, he asks, “For what? Is it Jim’s fault if I refuse to assert myself in order to fit his ideal? Is that him making me into a fool, or me carving that mold for myself, if his ideal is nothing like me, and I try to pretend otherwise?”

“So, I’m just supposed to let Lee get away with it?” Ed asks, growing irate. “What happened to you? You used to be—”

“Like a spoiled child? Throwing a tantrum every time I didn’t get my way?” Oswald interjects. The words, Edward’s own, casually tossed out between them serve to cut the man’s strings, as if he’s been physically slapped.

Still, Oswald waits for him to relax just a fraction more before he continues. “I never said to keep being a doormat, did I? I simply suggested that your issues with Lee are your own fault, so killing her would be pointless. Which is antithetical to your design, if I recall?”

Ed sucks in a breath, then groans. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You could wait it out,” Oswald suggests, carefully neutral. “Let her do something to truly force your hand, or…”

Edward prompts, impatiently, “Or, what?”

“Leave her.” Oswald shrugs. “Let the Queen of the Narrows rule her penniless territory alone, while you plot your own course.”

“Make her come crawling back to me,” Edward infers with a sniff.

“No, idiot,” Oswald rejoins testily, angrily taking another pull from their shared whiskey bottle. 

“Hey!”

“The entire point of leaving is that it’s for yourself, Edward!” Oswald attempts to explain patiently, though he knows he’s failing. Ed—both sides of him—is being awfully trying today. “Attempting to retain Lee by setting her free defeats the entire purpose. Waiting for someone to see the light is just another form of prison. It doesn’t work, trust me.”

Oswald says that last bit while studiously averting his eyes. Edward catches on anyway, asking as he gestures between them, “Oh no?” As if to imply ‘I’m here, aren’t I? Asking for your help once again.’ Like it’s some kind of proof in favor of the old proverb.

To this, Oswald shakes his head. “No. We both know this is not how I would have originally intended your return to my fold—not that I would permit a return now—purely hypothetical.” He takes a fortifying breath after that little slip, then reasserts, “You need to leave with the expectation that it’s final.”

“That’s it?” Edward guffaws. “That’s your advice?”

“What did you expect? You want me to offer to hold a towel, so you can clean your knife afterward?” Oswald snorts.

Edward answers him with silence, his expression flat.

“Typical.” He huffs sardonically. “I prefaced this conversation with the disclaimer that I have no idea how to help you. That’s your problem, Edward: you don’t listen.” Oswald tsks. “Like…ever.”

“Fine,” Edward concedes, pinching his nose. “What if I leave and the desire to kill her only festers? Then, what? Wouldn’t not killing her be just another cage?”

Oswald groans, then gets to his feet. He is supposed to be picking out a wedding band for Jim. At least, that was his goal before Edward interrupted his catalogue perusal. This distraction has gone on long enough.

“I’m not going to talk in circles with you, Edward. You’re the Riddler, not me.” Oswald buttons his jacket as Ed makes to stand, clearly put out at the abrupt dismissal.

“But—”

“You either take my advice, or you don’t. Whatever you decide to do, is entirely up to you.” Oswald says, coming to stand before Edward with his cane firmly in hand. Just in case. He places his other hand on Ed’s bicep and adds, brow furrowed with genuine sincerity, “Remember that.”

He’s just passed over the threshold when he looks over his shoulder to see Ed still standing in the middle of his office, contemplating. He calls, “Oh, and Ed?”

Ed’s gaze shoots up, eyebrows raised in silent question.

“If Jim punches you in the face next time he sees you,” Oswald says, grin playing at his mouth as he shrugs, “that’s not my fault either.”

He watches as Edward’s eyes grow wide, before turning and continuing along the corridor which leads to the stairs. His men are waking up below, and Butch is angrily rushing past him to reach the doorway of his office just as Ed attempts to follow.

“Oswald!” He calls around Butch’s hefty arms as they catch him mid-flight. “Do not tell Jim, Oswald! It was barely even a peck! Oswald?!”

He has to fight to contain his giggles as Butch asks, “Whaddyou want me to do with him, boss?”

“Mister Nygma was just leaving.” Oswald sighs, forced to turn back once more only to see the panic in Ed’s eyes when Butch tosses his taser over the balcony. It shatters against the floor below with a crash and he takes pity on Edward in the end. “Gently now, Butch. It is the middle of the afternoon, after all,” he reasons.

Butch huffs, but he does as Oswald requests, ushering Edward past with far less force than he’d obviously like.

“Next time you want to visit, call ahead,” Oswald reminds. It’s more of a promise than a rebuke—that next time he’ll answer—and the minor tilt of Edward’s hat as he descends the stairs tells Oswald his message is received.

***

Despite the partial derailment of his afternoon by Ed’s unexpected visit, Oswald does find Jim a suitable ring. The search still takes longer than he’d like, and it’s well after ten in the evening by the time he makes it through the door of the manor.

When Oswald enters the foyer, Jim looks up from the day’s paper to greet him with a smile. At the sight, he feels the immediate unfurling of some unnamable tension from his spine. He feels oddly disoriented by its abrupt departure. There must be something telling in his expression, because Jim lays his paper aside and is beside him within moments.

His fiancé wraps him up in an embrace and Oswald fairly wilts against him. “Oz? Is everything alright?”

Oswald sniffs, shocked to discover that he is in fact crying. Not wanting to worry Jim any further, he nods against the firm support of his chest, swallowing back the unprecedented lump in his throat.

“Nothing’s happened. Business is good,” he manages to reply. “I just…had a trying afternoon. I guess it upset me more than I realized at the time. Seeing you, I just…”

Jim’s relieved exhale flutters through Oswald’s bangs as leans back. “You wanna sit down?” he asks, hands sliding along Oswald’s arms until they encounter his wrists and then loosely encircle his hands.

“Please,” Oswald replies snuffly2.

Jim peels him out of his summer blazer, takes it and Oswald’s cane into the foyer to stow in the closet. He then ushers Oswald to the recliner, which is his favorite place to sit when his leg is aching, but distance between them is the last thing he wants right now. He is halted from so much as thinking up a rational way to express this desire, when Jim plops down onto the chair before guiding Oswald into his lap. The man throws the lever then, and they are instantly reclining together as Jim cradles Oswald across his lap.

“Better?” Jim asks solicitously.

“I love you,” Oswald says in answer.

Jim ducks his head, so Oswald can see his smile. “Love you too.”

“Edward came to see me at the office today.” He can feel Jim tense, see it in the hard line of jaw, the second the name is out of his mouth, and so Oswald decides to just get it out of the way. “He kissed me.”

“What?” There are few times Jim has ever sounded so murderous. A small part of him thrills that it’s on his behalf, but he is quick to sooth Jim’s rage before it can grow wings.

“There wasn’t any real intent behind it,” Oswald assures. He grimaces as he adds, “It’s more like he was attempting to prove something. It was…unpleasant, which is funny because once upon a time it was all I thought about.”

Jim cups Oswald’s jaw, then, his gaze searching. “Is that why you were so upset?”

Oswald tries to parse his feelings, and ultimately shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I just…it dawned on me when I came in to see you here, in our home. Jim, things could have been so different if I hadn’t, if we never…”

Oswald breaks off, because he can remember it very clearly, how isolated he’d become and how he’d been convinced that it was for the best. Oswald had reached a point where he’d accepted that he would never know love, not even among others like himself. He’d been prepared to cut his metaphorical heart out if it meant he’d never open himself up for that level of betrayal again.

What are the odds that Jim would find him then, in a rare moment of unguarded vulnerability, and truly _see_ him? It had only lasted a moment, and yet something had shifted between them. But when Jim responded in kind? Something else had irrevocably been altered within himself; He is not the same man that he was before that moment.

“Hey,” Jim says, tone pitched to comfort as he runs a soothing hand up and down Oswald’s back. Oswald should probably be embarrassed by how well he responds to it. God, it’s practically Pavlovian at this point. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on up there?”   

“I think,” Oswald starts, feeling his face heat with embarrassment as he confides, “I think you saved me, Jim.”

Jim’s expression slackens with shock, but Oswald can see the denial rising up behind his gaze. He teases Oswald about humility, but Jim actually is charmingly humble.

“Don’t,” Oswald warns when Jim opens his mouth. “Before…” Before that night. Before Jim kissed him, touched him, loved him.

“When I was a child, and I came home beaten up after school, my mother would comfort me by telling me how handsome I was, how much smarter I was, that I would do great things and be a great man.”

“You are those things.” Oswald glances up to see Jim give him an encouraging smile, and it only makes his heart pang all the sharper. Makes his throat close up because he isn’t—not in the ways his mother wanted to believe. _Jim_ is a great man; Oswald…is a powerful man, often simply the lesser of two evils.

“After Ed shot me, I visited her grave. I called her a liar,” he confesses before the tears spill over again. “I burned all the things that ever made me feel worth anything. I thought, what’s the point, you know? I’d already proved no one would ever...”

Oswald can’t finish the sentence without choking on the words, so he just shrugs, lets himself sink into Jim’s embrace. Finds comfort in the way Jim swipes his tears away as Oswald closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Jim is looking at him sadly. 

“You’re stronger than you think you are,” Jim says finally. “You don’t need anyone to save you, but if that’s what you think I did, then I want you to know that you saved me too. I couldn’t keep going the way I was; fighting the good fight, with no life line and no real regard if I lived or died so long as I took out the other guy first.”

Oswald huffs. “You are quite the scrapper,” he says, attempting to lighten the mood.

Jim rewards him with a fond smile. “You’re one to talk.”

“ _Please_.” Oswald snorts. “You live for the danger.” He regrets the words the moment they’re beyond his ability to recall.

Rather than return to the previous melancholy mood, however, Jim leans forward and steals a kiss. “Not anymore,” he says, when he retreats.

“Oh!” Oswald sits up suddenly, causing Jim to start and the chair to rock ominously. “I can’t believe I almost forgot. I spent hours looking for it!”

He pulls the tiny box from his trouser pocket with a flourish and flips it open to reveal Jim’s [wedding band](http://urlifeinpixels.com/mens-art-deco-diamond-ring/mens-art-deco-diamond-ring-art-deco-hammered-mens-band-rosestone-jewelry/). It’s a wide set, hammered gold ring with lipped edges and a tiny raised centerpiece which holds a sapphire in its center. Jim takes the box carefully, appraising it quietly.

Silence is not what Oswald is expecting. Although, he’d been so focused on finding a ring worthy of his feelings for Jim, that he hadn’t spent any time considering how the man might react to its particular design. He isn’t sure how to read Jim’s opinion on his selection either, which means he begins to babble.

“I know we haven’t set a date or anything, but I wear this one like an engagement ring, and I thought if you wanted to wear one too…It’s an older ring, like mine. The little sapphire caught my attention and I don’t think it’s Russian, but it’s hammered gold which reminded me of you.” Jim looks up at him, then, trance broken as Oswald shrugs and averts his eyes. “A little beaten, but…still beautiful,” he mumbles.

For the second time that day, he is caught unawares by an unexpected kiss. Jim’s lips are anything but wooden, however, the pressure of their weight both familiar and welcome as Oswald opens to him easily. His mouth is tenderly plundered, every caress of Jim’s tongue savored and returned as Oswald eagerly kisses back.

When Jim finally breaks away, he catches Oswald’s eyes. “I love it,” he says. “And I absolutely want to wear it.”

Oswald grins, unwinding his arms from around Jim’s neck where they managed to cling without him realizing. He carefully slips the ring from its cushy holder while Jim grips the box with his right hand. Oswald takes up Jim’s left in his own and slips it on, pleased with the fit.

They thread their hands together after, and Oswald is taken with how they look side by side. On the surface, the rings have very little in common aside from the materials from which they are wrought. Too, it’s clear both are well-worn, littered with the smallest imperfections. To Oswald, each tiny scratch and ding tells a story and, as with all old, well-crafted things, only adds to their beauty. Undeniably unique.

Despite their distinct differences, Oswald thinks they complement one another quite nicely.

“So,” Jim says, “How do you wanna do this?”

Oswald snaps out of his train of contemplation, thinking he’s missed something. “Do what?”

“Get married, Oz.” Jim chuckles.

Heat rises to his face. He doesn’t know why the idea of making wedding plans makes him feel so giddy. Yet, it takes a hefty amount of will to keep himself from vibrating right off the chair.

He clears his throat, ignores the far-too-knowing quirk of Jim’s lips, as he replies, “What do you want?”

Jim blows out a breath. “I’m not really sure. I only have one brother3, and we don’t talk so my list of guests would be pretty short.”

“Smaller, then,” Oswald deduces with a nod, putting aside his curiosity for now. “I agree.”

“What—really?” Jim asks, looking adorably pleased.

Oswald hums. “I’d be perfectly happy to forgo a ceremony altogether, if you wanted to elope with a justice of the peace even,” he offers. “I’m not particularly religious, as you know. Or all that enamored of tradition as a whole, for that matter.”

Jim sighs. “I’m really going to have to stop thinking I can predict you. I thought for sure you’d want to make a big thing of it.”

Oswald is keenly aware of his knack for gloating, but…well, he’s a little hurt by Jim’s implication that he would use their wedding as a platform to show off. Oswald doesn’t want a thousand eyes peering into the most sacred area of his life, forming opinions on matters they couldn’t possibly begin to understand. This is theirs, and Oswald is like a dragon with a horde of gold when it comes to James. He absolutely does not want to share.

He wants their vows to be exchanged in a way that is meaningful and intimate. Contrary to popular belief, Oswald does understand the value of humility in the face of something greater than himself. Which is, indeed, the entire purpose of such unions, is it not?”

“I’m sure it will be a struggle for the ages, but I’m willing to put aside my ego for the span of an afternoon,” Oswald retorts, coldly. 

Jim’s mouth goes slack jawed, before he grumbles. “Damn it. I didn’t mean it that way.” Jim looks so contrite as he grinds his teeth, Oswald fears for his molars.

At Jim’s words, Oswald finds himself frustrated with his own reaction. The man is about as eloquent as a herd of stampeding elephants, is intimately familiar with foot-in-mouth syndrome, and Oswald shouldn’t be so quick to find fault. As he watches Jim carefully mull over his words now, he feels a sharp pang of guilt.

“Jim—”

“I just meant,” Jim says, words carefully unhurried, “that I thought you would prefer something a little nicer, even if the ceremony were smaller.”

Oswald grits his teeth, because he wants to apologize for making Jim explain himself when Oswald should have been clever enough to draw the correct conclusion. But Jim wouldn’t thank him for it, and so he bites it back and silently promises to remember this moment next time he thinks Jim is speaking inconsiderately.

“Is that what you want?” Oswald asks instead. “A proper ceremony?”

Jim shifts, tightens his arms around Oswald’s waist as he considers. After a moment, he nods. “I mean, it’s not so much tradition as it is giving the occasion the kind of reverence it deserves, right?”

Oswald swallows around that building giddiness once again as he leans forward to peck Jim on the lips excitedly. “Yes, to all of that.”

Jim smiles, returns Oswald’s kiss with one of his own before he asks, “Should we set a date?”

He’s certain it’s July, but… _is it Christmas 4?_

Oswald giggles at the wayward thought before he declares, “Before the casino opens!”

Jim nods. “Agreed. How about…” he squints. “First Saturday in October?”

Oswald grins. He knows he doesn’t deserve this man, but he gets to keep him anyway. “Sounds perfect.”

October, he thinks, can’t come soon enough.

 

 

1–From the author Stefan Zweig, Chess Story. I feel like this would be a read Jim would appreciate.  
2–Snuffly is a word that is in the bottom 10% of use. It means, while snuffling or snuffling. I wanted to find a way to describe that adorable way in which Oswald is all stuffy nosed when he talks through his tears, as he does while healing at Ed’s apartment. And I needed it in adverb form damn it!! Lol  
3–Jim has no canonical living family according to his wiki page. But I started writing this while shebang with a brother in mind for reasons which have yet to be revealed so…ta-daaaaaa. Wave hello to Jim’s estranged sibling hiding in the thicket over yonder.  
4–Random Christmas in July pun. I worked really hard to calculate what time of year it is based on my very obscure references to time within the text of the series. It was getting to a point where I needed to make sure I didn’t get my wires crossed. Like, what if I wanted to do a holiday story or something? 

**Author's Note:**

> Before I let you guys go, I just wanted to make sure you understand that I am not trying to Ed-bash here. Nor am I trying to use subtext to hate on nygmobblepot. 
> 
> I actually really love this character, I loved season three and where Ed and Oz were headed in that. Of course, it wouldn’t be a televised relationship if the drama weren’t over 9000, and everything took a horrible turn.  
> Here’s the thing about Ed, in my opinion and you are welcome to disagree or add to this assessment in the comments, he makes a lot of observations about other people and creates an opinion on how they should be if only they would cast off the things that hinder them. With Oswald, he says it’s his emotions. With Lee, it’s her ties to her life before the serum altered her perspective on morality. It’s Jim, he later narrows in as the last physical representation of that life. 
> 
> Ed finds the flaw and he seeks to root it out. He views it as helping others reach their potential, which would be great…if he weren’t such a hypocrite about it. I did not write this exchange the way I did in order to set him up to become some antagonist plot device to Gobblepot. But I have made references to he and Oswald’s stilted relationship post where I diverted from canon at 4x21. The goal is to try and repair some of those burned bridges, but that cannot happen if Ed is unable to catch up to Oswald in terms of personal development. 
> 
> For a while, Ed has been able to claim the high ground in his dealings with Oz, and I don’t think they can have a relationship where that imbalance continues to exist. Ed needs a come to Jesus moment and I thought having him come to Oswald while trying to confront one of his own demons, quite truthfully hoping to be gaslighted by Oswald into doing what he’s been fighting (killing lee) so he can avoid accountability. 
> 
> Only, Oswald doesn’t do that. Instead, I wanted to be able to showcase the changes in Oswald that Ed has missed and contrast that with his own past observations. I did this by having Oswald repeat certain things ed claimed about him in the past and turning them on their head by being the reasonable, calculated Strategist behind the Penguin. All without having to sacrifice his emotions, as depicted by his engagement to Jim. Oswald has expanded his worldview, and while it comes off a bit harsh, his time spent mooning over Ed makes his presence seem smaller to Oswald in turn. It’s like walking through your high school after you graduate college. You think…how did all of this ever seem so big back then? You could be the same height as you were at 17, but the lockers are thinner than you remember, the hallways far too narrow. 
> 
> As for the kiss, I think Oswald was a safe outlet for Ed to act on something he’s been curious about for a while. I think he and Oswald had a chance at one time but again, contrary to Ed’s predictions, Oswald has changed and I think this new version of him means they’re no longer as compatible in a way they could have been. It’s like kissing your best friend who you have all this chemistry with and maybe mixed feelings because your love for them is a bit deeper than the rest of your friends, and then realizing, oh God, I’m kissing my brother.  
> I have his character going through a lot in about 3k words, and I realize that it might be jarring. We will see splashes of Ed’s development throughout the series, but he is a secondary character in this, though an important one. Like Harvey. I just really wanted to get him set on a course I can develop in the background moving forward. 
> 
> If you want to talk to me about Ed, Gobblepot, or what any of the characters mean to you or how you interpret them, I am all ears. Love that shit, y’all.


End file.
